


Glide

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, M/M, Vignette, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-16 22:10:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21278540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Noctis wakes up to Prompto on the balcony.





	Glide

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

When he wakes up, he’s alone in bed, but he knows that Prompto hasn’t left, because Prompto _never_ leaves until he has to. Usually, he curls up with Noctis under the covers and tries to ignore the alarm, twining them together until Ignis comes and has to physically drag them out. That’s the way Noctis most like to wake up—ensconced in Prompto’s arms. 

But he doesn’t mind waking up to the view of his gorgeous boyfriend standing out on his balcony, silhouetted in the morning light. This is the only reason Noctis ever still stays at the Citadel—for that very balcony, just a stone’s throw from his bed. The glass doors are thrown open, the cool breeze rustling the curtains. Prompto’s thin, white wings are spread wide, as though he’s about to leap right over the railing and soar off across the city. 

Noctis’ black feathers brush across the sheets as he rolls onto his side to face Prompto properly. A part of him wants to go out and join his boyfriend—envelope Prompto from behind and glue them properly together—but the rest of Noctis just wants to lounge in bed. So he idly watches Prompto take in the city. The low wind stirs his yellow hair, his pale skin flushed pink against the cold. He’s wearing only his checkered boxers—Noctis stripped the rest off last night. 

Prompto’s wings twitch. He takes a step forward. Maybe he really is going for a morning flight, so Noctis steps in and calls, “Prom.” A yawn cuts him off before he can say anymore.

Prompto’s head lowers from the beautiful sunrise. His face turns to Noctis, and Noctis’ chest clenches at the soft sadness in his blue eyes. Prompto licks his lips, lowers his gaze, and quietly asks, “Noct... do you ever think we’ll be able to fly past the Wall?”

Noctis bites the inside of his lip. The telltale shimmer of his father’s barrier ripples across the sky, obscuring fractions of it, but it still looks good enough to Noctis. It’s the view he’s seen for his whole life. He mutters, “There’s still enough clearance to fly...”

“But only in Insomnia,” Prompto tentatively adds. “Do you think... do you think we’ll ever be able to fly to _other_ places?”

Noctis can guess why Prompto asks that. He wishes he didn’t. He’s probably the only one besides Prompto’s parents who’s ever seen the barcode on his wrist, but everyone can see that his wings are oddly pale. Ignis has the second lightest feathers Noctis knows, and those are a still a deep ash brown. The glaives tell tales of the soldiers in the Empire—not the silver, metal-winged MTs—but Noctis tries not to listen to them. As far as he’s concerned, Prompto _belongs_ within the Walls. 

Prompto looks so hopeful when he asks that Noctis has to lie, “Sure, Prom. Someday.”

A smile twitches at Prompto’s lips. He probably buys it. He trusts Noctis implicitly. He hesitates, then wanders back to the bed, where Noctis reaches out for him. Prompto falls back into a tangle of limbs, and Noctis hugs him tight to remind him that he shouldn’t go anywhere anyway: there’s nowhere in the world for him as _right_ as Noctis’ arms.


End file.
